Falling
by alana-rose1
Summary: GSR (WIP)
1. At Home

**Disclaimer: **

I don't own the characters involved here, i.e. Grissom or Sara (and once you've read this story, you will understand why!) they belong exclusively to... well, whoever they belong to I think it's CBS – Hurrah to CBS!

I also don't own Michelle Branch's song Falling (however I do encourage listening to it, if you can find it!) that belongs to her and Maverick recordings.

**Point of Notice:**

I originally posted this under SinceThen however all those details have for some reason been wiped along with my stories. So here's my first attempt... again at this story.

**Prologue**

The bottle, so full of promise had sat in his home for almost a month. Tonight, it was time to bring it to life.

He would give it time to breathe, a breath it had been holding for 8 years.

He pierced the film with the knife, slowly slicing off the sheath. He relished the sight of an unopened bottle of wine.

Taking his time, he permeated the first piece of the cork. Slowly, he began to wind.

As he gently coaxed the cork out of its resting place, he knew it immediately: He would relish this wine.

The confident, strong scent of the blackberries hit his nasal passage first, then after gentle persuasion, the softer more subtle violets began to smoke it's way through. He envied both scents and enjoyed them both equally.

He placed his bottle of Chateaux Margaux on the side board.

This was to be enjoyed later.


	2. The Package

**Chapter 1**

He pushed the door gently. Grissom was not one who wanted to arouse suspicion or attention to his entry.

It swung gracefully to his touch. The smoke of the bar stung quietly at his eyes, but he knew he had reason to be here. A purpose.

He scanned the bar, the usual crowd, he could see, but they would not see him, their eyes were focused on their drinks. Even if they did, they would not know him. This was his way.

Aside from these, it was moderately full. Most faces fixed towards a stage he couldn't see and had rarely seen in the two years he had been frequenting it.

He was faintly aware of singing, a woman, her voice was subtle and sensual. He had heard the type of singer before, however not here. This was his haunt, his haunt to sit in the darkness and be washed over by the subtle melodies and deep throaty beats of Pink Floyd.

The words of the song he was not familiar with, however they seemed to invite him to listen. Her voice was deep, adventurous, raw but beautiful. She was obviously talented, she felt the emotions of the song she was singing, he heard the pain in her voice, the need to cry.

He had come for a collection, however this could wait, he took his eyes away from the blushing lights and looked towards his sleeve, pushing the soft material gently up his arm, allowing him vision of his watch.

9.48

He wasn't due to meet his accomplice until 10, this gave him 12 minutes to listen.

He chose his favourite spot, far away enough from the bar itself to avoid the crass mood lighting behind it, but also too far from the stage to see the musician. This was how best to enjoy Floyd and he was content to listen to this young woman in the same manner.

He heard faint movement and hands from the audience, she had finished her song. He had been so caught up in his thoughts of the voice, he had missed her finish.

He felt embarrassed, his longing had allowed him to miss something quite unusual, until

he heard the strum of a guitar, very similar in resonance to the last song: Middle of the road with a hint of country.

He heard a man whistle. A song was beginning.

The voice came back, gently, cautiously this time, after a few moments he realised this song meant a lot to her. He listened to the words as they fell over him, showered him like petals.

"_You were the question  
I needed answered  
You'd never know how scared I was  
Falling in love_

You would talk softly  
You are a riddle  
And I felt so innocent  
standing in your eyes"

He felt his fingers tingle, the follicles on his arms reacting to his nervousness at the words.

He stroked them softly, almost like calming an animal, it did no good, he was no longer controlling his bodily reactions to the voice.

"_So hear me now  
I'll scream out loud  
Can't figure out  
how you entered into my world  
And I fall down_

You are the vision  
I'm always seeing,  
And being alone right there with you  
Left me satisfied  
You're all I need in life"

The young woman on stage may have begun to cry, as her pitch faltered slightly. Her breathing became heavier, shallower, her voice deeper yet more controlled. She may have sung this song a thousand times but the feelings were still the same. She felt them.

He felt them. His body responded to them.

"_So hear me now  
I'll scream out loud  
Can't figure out  
How you entered into my world  
And I fall down_

And I fall down.  
And now what can I say  
I'm so far away  
waiting for the day when   
I'll be standing in your eyes  
In your eyes

So hear me now

_I'll scream out loud  
can't figure out  
how you entered into my world  
And I fall down  
Ooooh.  
And I fall."_

He heard her soft breathing again over the microphone as she ended the song, a small sniff before the rest of the bar began to applaud veraciously.

He applauded quietly to himself, before a sound distracted him and suddenly he felt his personal space invaded.

"Always cries that one, good little singer and a good looker but she really goes along with the song. Someone somewhere must be a hard ass with that one."

The gentleman now sent on the seat beside Gil, looked approximately 45, tall, good skin, enough stubble to look rough, but his hair was soft enough to look handsome. His name was Robin and was a lead singer in a group who covered Pink Floyd tracks. He had known Grissom for some time. Grissom didn't know how to reply.

"So, Griss, I managed to pull it!" He continued, "Don't ask me how, some kid sat in their broom cupboard too long, now with square eyes," Gil snorted at the idea of a young boy with square eyes, "But, what does it matter? You now own a copy of _our_ rendition of Floyd alongside The Oz! Does it get much cooler than that?" Grissom smiled, he had been waiting almost four months to see this.

"How about... a drink to say thank you? Whisky Sour with a dash of soda right Robin?" He was grinning from ear to ear.

"The only way to get it any better is to make it a double," he said with a sigh of joviality in his voice "But, yeah that'd be good thanks. What are you having?" He smiled, revealing his perfect white teeth, already knowing the answer.

"Good old faithful Robin, Good old faithful." He smiled, stood and turned towards the bar.

It was a nice gesture but Gil needed to move, get the adrenaline out of his system. It was just a biological response, he knew, he saw it every day. But what had triggered the endorphins? The woman's voice? Her sincerity? Her heart?

He was aware of a question being posed as he leaned at the bar, not fully comprehensive of anything.

"Double whisky sour, with a dash of soda and a water, no ice." He paused, glanced towards the waitress to check her recognition. Thinking again for a second he called, speaking to her back "Make it a two on the whisky's please." She nodded, head still turned away from him.

He could not flush the energy impulses surging through his body, he thought that the alcohol may numb it for a short time. He rarely drank whisky, and certainly not doubles, they were reserved for lonely nights when his life hit him. However he was aware of the effects it had, and he knew as long as he would be walking home and drank plenty of water before leaving he would be ok.

He rubbed his left arm again, the follicles calming themselves but leaving a slight stinging sensation on the surface.

The young waitress returned, placed two large shot glasses of dark, fulsome liquid and one large glass of pure, clear water. He shook seven dollars out of his pocket and passed it over the counter. "Thanks," he replied. He had decided to drink his shot at the bar, not to allow Robin to see his lapse in control.

Taking one of the shot glasses, cradling the thick base in his hand for a second, then lifting it towards his mouth. He allowed a very small sip to pass his lips, the warmth intensifying the beat in his throat. He paused, looking at the promise of the fiery liquid, before putting the glass once again to his lips, allowing the totality of it to sweep into his mouth.

"Grissom?"


	3. Face Off

**Chapter 2**

He still had the shot at his mouth, when a strong arm pulled him away from the bar and shoved him into a dark corner. He was blurred and disorientated for a moment, shaking his head, he dropped his glass onto the floor. It hit with a soft thud.

"What are you doing here?" The voice was stern but gentle, a woman's voice. He looked into the dark where he was stood, instantly recognising the fire in those eye's.

"Sara?" His face contorted, he wasn't aware that Sara went to bar's. Perhaps she was here with a friend, he though. The whisky unexpectedly hit his stomach, it burned. "What are you doing here?" He stammered, pulling her towards the wall where he had been thrown, rather than being stood over like a protective mother figure. "I mean, I'm sorry, I shouldn't ask that. What, what I meant was... I didn't know you came here." He was bashful, he had presumed too much.

Sara smiled, his smile, the one that held a thousand smiles and tears. "Yeah, I come here every now and again." She paused for a second, turning her head slightly, "I'm on my own actually, just having a quiet drink." She blushed, ashamed at her loneliness, but despite this, they both knew she had very little social life. "What did you just drink? It was too damn dark to be water! You _only_ drink water!" She was avoiding his eyes, he had caught her out, and she had caught him. "What the hell are _you_ doing here? You don't go out." It was a fact, one of the few things she thought she knew about him, she felt slightly put out that even this had turned out to be untrue.

Grissom stung slightly, he wasn't sure how to reply. Truthfully, he decided.

"I do go out, but it is rare. I'm here with a friend, he's the reason I come here," He noticed her blush still avoiding his eyes, so he continued "He plays in a band, covers Pink Floyd and does his set here from time to time. And yes I did just have a drink," he wanted to change the subject, it felt like a weakness, "What did you think to the singer? I was impressed, she was very good. A little raw, emotional perhaps, but very good." He caught himself again, he had forgotten Robin, "You wanna meet Robin? I just bought him a drink, he's brought me a CD of his band playing their music alongside the video of..."

"The Wizard of Oz?" She half smiled, he hadn't expected her to know. He searched for her gaze and raised an eyebrow "I happen to enjoy Floyd very much. So that would be the Dark Side of the Moon set, right? God, I really should have done that you know... listened to the music and watched the film." She let her hip slide into the wall slightly, getting comfortable, Grissom noticed and repeated his question,

"So, you wanna meet Robin? He'd love to meet you." He moved back towards the bar glad to have a little personal space again, but turned back towards her, "Would you like a drink Sara?" She hadn't moved, she was in her own world for a second. He had seen it often, during cases when she was contemplating something.

"You buying?" He nodded, yes "Lager, pint." She smiled again, this time revealing a little of her teeth. He ordered her a drink and had a chance to steal a glance, she was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, tight as always, but her top was black v necked with three quarter length sleeves. Not an unusual ensemble for Sara, her colours, but definitely not her work clothes.

"There ya go honey, two dollars please." He slid the coins to the barwoman, and placed his hand on the cold glass, relishing the feeling. He lifted it and turned back to her, holding the glass out towards her. She took it, and nodded. Returning to the bar he found Robins whisky and his own glass of water, now spattered with condensation.

"OK?" He asked, her face towards the glass. He referenced with his head towards where Robin was sat.

"Sure, lead the way boss." She was stood behind him, smirking.

"Sara!"

"I'm joking Grissom. Promise." He lead the way to his table, to find Robin standing, pulling his coat back over his shoulders.

"You leavin' Robin?" It occurred to Grissom that he had been gone more than fifteen minutes. He placed the drinks on the table, Robin looked at them and smiled,

"Yeah, I have to go, places to be, people to see. You know how it is." He looked to the brunette standing behind Grissom, "Hey, you're doing well, that last one was pretty damn good." Turning to his friend, "Have my drink for me huh Griss?" Robin winked and headed to the door.

"Wha...?" Gil stood, dumbfounded, he looked towards Sara, she was blushing furiously, but not smiling, in fact she looked perturbed. "What was that?"

She lifted the glass to her mouth, took a long drawn out drink and ventured towards a chair, opposite to where she could see Grissom's coat hung over the seating area.

She sat down, her leg's feeling weak. "Sit down?" She sat, wiping her top lip.

She crossed her legs and spread her arms across the back of the chair acting casually, as if he hadn't asked the question.

Grissom sat, back straight, still confused. He ventured, "So...? Do you know Robin?"

She sat forward, in a rather confronting manner. She wasn't smiling, but her eyes gave her away.

"You_ told_ me to get a hobby." It was a statement of fact, he had in fact told her to get a hobby, something to take her away from her everyday life.

"I still don't fully understand, do you go to see Robin play?" She sighed, her frustrated

sigh, "What? I don't understand," She had to tell him.

"I sing, Grissom. That was me. How could you not know it was me?" She shook her head slightly, upset. "I sing here once in a while. He comes in for a drink. OK? That's why I'm on my own. Anyway," She felt trapped, was trying to find a way out, "It was you're idea. You said to do something away from work. So I did. And here we are."

Grissom was dumbstruck. His face showed little of anything. "You gonna drink that? I think I could do with it." She asked, but had already got the glass in her hand and it was at her lips. She downed the whisky in one sip. She slammed the glass on the table and shook her head slightly. "You want another?" She asked furtively, uncrossing her legs needing an exit.

"Yeah, sure. Double." She stood and headed to the bar.

Grissom couldn't believe what had just happened, he was upset he had pursued this, it was obviously something personal to her, and he knew she must have felt awkward.

Her initial reaction to his presence confirmed this. He was awestruck by her talent, but confused by his memory.

His reaction had been so primal, the sense of the song so strong inside him.

She returned, slowly slid herself behind the table, she had evidently bought four drinks, two of which she pushed towards him.

"Thanks." Was his only available answer. He clenched one glass and allowed the liquid to warm his throat, and he hoped his senses, which had dulled slightly despite the revelation.

She cradled one in her long slender hand, her eyes still avoiding his,

"You're not angry at me?"

"I have no reason to be angry! You sing well, it was nice. Did you write the song too?" He was genuinely interested. She snorted, which stung him a little.

"No. I can't write. But I like the song." She gulped the drink.

"Evidently." He wasn't going to push, but she knew what he was referring to. She had cried during her song, she blushed at the memory.

"So... I like Robin's band, they're almost as good as the real thing." She had found common ground, even ground, "Would you mind lending me that CD once you've finished with it?" She attempted a smile. Grissom, catching her glance, lifted the other drink and threw it back in his mouth. The metallic taste was bitter but warm and friendly. He swallowed, hard.

"You wanna watch it now?" He enquired tentatively. He knew it was uncalled for, but he felt like socialising, and this didn't happen often.

"Sure." He was surprised by her reaction; he wasn't expecting her to agree so readily.

"Good. You wanna leave you're drink?" He smiled, knowing her tolerance to alcohol was good. In response she grabbed the glass and stood up, downing it in one.

"Nope, but I'll leave the cold one." She stood, her coat on, and allowed him to lead the way.


	4. Emotions Resurfaced

**Chapter 3**

They stumbled into his front room, giggling, Sara fell onto the sofa, lifting her legs onto it, kicking her shoes over the edge.

"Make yourself at home." He giggled again, the drink had begun to wave over the pair by the time the first gust of air hit them outside the bar. Neither could fully recall what had started off the laughter, but by the end they were holding each other up for fear of falling over.

"Let's do this thing then. Come on, your TV's big enough!" She looked over her shoulder to see Grissom struggling with his shoes. She laughed again. The drink had hit him hard, she presumed her reaction was due to the already increased levels of adrenaline in her system combined with the drink.

He fell into the large armchair beside her, disk in hand. He held it, allowed to her see it.

"One thing, first." The drink had increased his confidence or stupidity, one of the two.

She left her face slip, she looked impatient, but was quietly enjoying the attention he was giving her.

"Sure." She was comfortable and happy in his company, had been for a very long time, but recently they had drifted apart. She couldn't understand it, but everyone in the team felt it. Nick had referred once, whilst they had spent a breakfast together, that he hadn't seen the 'Grissom Smile' for a while. When she questioned him about it, he said that every once in a while when she's done something particularly Grissom-esque she gave this beaming smile, but he'd only ever seen her use it on Grissom.

It summed up the situation very well, they had spent as little time as possible together over the last year, and never worked cases alone anymore. This had hurt Sara, more than she allowed anyone to know.

She realised Grissom had begun to speak,

"When you sing, is it only that song that makes you emotional? I don't mean to pry, it's just you so rarely show you're emotion, and when you do it's only to me." _Stupidity_, he thought showing recognition of past events.

_Tough one, Grissom, thanks_

"Well." She exhaled, "It just reminds me of myself," she stopped, trying to think of words "myself and an old flame. One that never burned, and how I felt then." She gazed into his eyes, they both knew who she was talking about.

"How do the lyrics go?" He paused. He was pushing it. He knew that the teacher-student bond they once shared had caused sparks in them both. She didn't hide them so well however. "I'm sorry, but my hearing's not what it used to be, I heard you're voice but not the words." He lied.

She spoke softly, the words she had sung in her head a million times over,

"You were the question  
I needed answered  
You'd never know how scared I was  
Falling in love

You would talk softly  
You are a riddle  
And I felt so innocent  
standing in your eyes"

She faltered, she couldn't say any more, "Excuse me." She headed for the back door, bag in hand. She always carried a spare packet of Marlboro with her, just in case. This was a case for them.

She lit up, the fresh air engulfed her, she was close to tears and the breeze made them sting in her eyes.


	5. Ten Minutes

**Chapter 4**

He knew he'd pushed her too hard. He walked towards his kitchen, collecting two deep wine glasses from his cupboard, checking them for grease, as was his nature. He motioned towards the bottle which lay breathing on the sideboard. Lifting it and once again enjoying the fragrance, he allowed the ink dark liquid swirl and coat the sides of the glass before generously filling it. Doing the same with the other, he ventured towards the door his friend had just used to evade his presence.

"Thought you could use this." She sniffled, the cold was invading her senses now, she was cold, but the cigarette was weaving a magic nothing else could substitute.

She never took her eyes of the door frame, but held out her hand, venturing for the glass.

As she pulled the glass towards her she could smell the dark liquor over the night dew that was forming in his sparse garden. She sipped, the taste mingling with the nicotine, it was warm, sensuous even. She looked down; the glass was filed with darkest wine she had ever seen, almost like the night itself.

"I'm sorry Sara, I didn't mean to pry. You wanna talk about it?" His voice was soft, caring and well meaning. But to her it sounded like ash.

"I'm done talking about it." Her eye's lifted to his for a moment, the ash she heard petered away, his eyes always looked honest and well meaning, even if the words often aren't. She had to get away, from him, from the them she knew he didn't want them to be.

"Look, I've got to go. Thank you for the drinks Grissom, but I really can't stay any longer." She passed back the glass, now avoiding his gaze. His look, she knew would be of confusion but that wouldn't change.

She stubbed her cigarette on the asphalt beneath her feet, paying more attention to it than she needed to.

He shook the glass away, "Sara, at least finish you're drink first? Come on inside, it's freezing out here." He motioned his hand towards her hip to guide her inside but she pushed it away.

"I'm ok." She walked in, still looking to the floor, unable to speak.

They move towards his kitchen table where she headed to the back chair and seated herself. Her glass now on the table, she stared at it intently.

Grissom sat opposite, his hands intertwined lay on the table, he'd unconsciously slipped into 'psychologist mode'. He wanted to hear her.

"Sara, I don't know what this is about, but I want you to tell me, it's obviously bothering you. You know I'm your friend." She snorted sarcastically,

"You have no idea!" She felt anger bubbling through her. She was sick of being seen as the rebellious, tempestuous one, when all she wanted was to impress him. It had all been to no avail that much was obvious.

"I would have a much better perspective if you would explain at least some elements to me. I don't want to pry into your personal life unless you want me to."

He could see his protégé was angry, hurt and upset, he also knew it was partly his fault. He'd pushed her away. Purposefully. He was aware his feelings were becoming problematic for the pair, however he justified it as giving her a sense of freedom.

She took a long sip of the wine, it tasted much better in the warm air. She could taste the blackberries and a subtlety she couldn't identify.

"I... I don't know what to say Grissom. I spend so long trying to impress you, so much hard work. I do everything to the best of my abilities, I go over everything two, three times more than anyone else, and all in the hopes that you'll give me a little..." _attention _She couldn't say it, not yet anyway.

His fears, thoughts and feeling were confirmed.

"Sara, I always give you exceptional on your reports, you know I appreciate all the overtime you do. I just didn't think you needed carrying anymore." He knew that his words would sting slightly, but it allowed him to maintain a professional air, an air the alcohol in his system was trying to override.

She was bitten by his words,

"'Carrying'? What the hell does mean? Is that why we've not worked on a case together for the last, oh, what, two months?" Her eyes were dark with anger, he'd scorned her.

"I just thought that working on your own would give you a sense of leadership, to define those qualities a little more. You're one of my best Sara, I wanted to see what you could do without me hovering over you." He'd prepared this speech, said it over and over, he hoped it wasn't too obvious.

"Grissom" She spoke slowly, picking her words clearly, "I left my life in San Francisco. Dropped everything I had built. My reputation, my family, my friends. My life, to come here. To be working beside you. Does that not speak volumes about how much I want to be close to you? So you can drop the 'leadership' speech, it's obvious you've said it a few times." She grabbed her glass from the table and slumped back into her chair, once again avoiding his eyes. She'd said it, made it clear. She felt tired, weak and happy all at once but it was taking all her strength not to cry.

She'd never really admitted it to herself exactly why she'd come to Las Vegas and left everything in San Francisco. It was something she held onto. Never admitted.

"Sara, I..." he was embarrassed he'd so obviously pushed her away, and for all the wrong reasons. He couldn't find the right words, he wasn't aware he was so see-through.

"Grissom," She sighed "It doesn't matter, I'm gonna head out. I'll see you at work." She stood up, pushing the glass away.

"No, Sara sit down we need to talk about this. If it's something I've done, I want to make it right." He stood, his arms held in a defensive posture echoing his voice.

She stepped away from the table, and headed towards the front door, tears clinging to her cheeks.

"Look, Grissom, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'm sick of talking about it. I'm sick of thinking about it. I just want to leave everything behind, go back to my old life and forget about you."

Suddenly, he knew.

Everything they had gone through in the last three years, everything he had come to know meant nothing when it came to her.

He had strived so long to be anonymous, to keep everyone from getting close. His best friends were insects, creatures of habit, even more so than him. He had to do it. Break the mould he had spent so long building his life upon. He had touched upon his feelings once with a suspect, had said he couldn't give it up. But he could, he would happily give it all up, to feel the love that shone between them. She had done it, given up everything to be with him. He had to show the same strength of character.

He moved quickly past her, blocking her path to the door.

"Sara, just..." She stared at the door knob.

"Grissom move. I can't do this anymore; please just let me... let me go." She looked into his eyes, pleading with him. She felt as if all the feeling had left her body, as if it was someone else's, but at the same time all her senses burned, she felt the breeze of the air conditioning on her lower arms, her deep breathing moving her wavy brown hair.

He placed a hand on her arm, it was gentle but firm. Years of handling murderers and rapists had taught him this small skill.

"Please, just come back inside for ten minutes, we need to talk."

"I don't need another plant Grissom. I just need to be away from here." She shouted. She looked into his eyes, hers filled with rejection. She found something different in him this time, almost an understanding look.

"Sara, just give me ten minutes."


	6. Picking Up The Pieces

Thanks for all the reviews guys, you inspired me to write this small extension to the story... hope this keeps you interested for a little bit longer.

Laur xxx

**Chapter 5**

"Grissom, I can't do this anymore. I'm tired." Her body was sagging slowly; she was emotionally and physically exhausted.

"Please, just sit down. I need to explain." He motioned towards the sofa cordially.

She moved slowly towards it. Sitting down, she crossed her arms and allowed herself to lean forward defensively.

This was a side to Sara that both of them rarely saw, even when she was upset she didn't lose her confidence, always sitting straight usually just crossing her hands.

But she felt totally exposed now, totally raw and unprepared. She had never felt like this.

Grissom sat across from her, legs slightly apart; body leaned in, towards her, his hands crossed, unaware of the mimic.

"Sara, you once said that I was confusing." He was looking straight at her, head was dipped but she could feel the warmth of his eyes on her head. "Do you remember saying that?" Her silence was an answer they had both come to understand. "You said that I told you to get a life but then expected you to be around at the drop of a hat. It's true, I give out confusing messages. And I'm sorry for that."

Sara raised her head slightly, the salty water cascading down her cheek.

"You know that I'm not good with people, and I'm not for one moment saying that you are just a 'regular person' to me, but when I get emotionally involved with someone, I find it difficult to make myself understood and often just say the wrong thing. Words aren't my strong suit. They're yours. You have no problem telling people exactly what you think," Sara couldn't drop the gaze formed between them, it was entrancing, like his words. "Even when I had my operation I couldn't tell you, and again, for that I'm sorry. But I'm going to try. I really am." She had spent so many years longing for these words; her tears came faster, stronger.

"You don't expect anything of me Sara, and when I first asked you to come here to Las Vegas to work with me, I thought that the chemistry we had before would have gone. But it hadn't, had it?"

So, I tried... I tried to pretend that it was just some kind of hero worship," Sara stifled a snort through the tears at the thought, "Silly? Yes. But in my mind it... helped. I could pretend that my feelings were purely platonic and yours were simply feelings of idolatry. But I think we both know that this is not the case."

Not any more."

He was amazed how easily the words had flowed out of him, like they had energy of their own.

He sat back against the chair, he felt warm, more comfortable now, but was unable to hold the gaze. He'd been truthful, but now he needed to make her understand why he'd pushed her away. He found his eyes sinking into the rug beneath his table.

"You know, when I first found out my mother was losing her hearing all I could think of was how I could help to accommodate her. So I buried myself in learning to sign. She taught me and taught me well. But I didn't realise how much we were becoming our own little world. We had our own language, one no-one around us knew. Just us. When it was time for me to leave home, I realised just how much I'd missed. I didn't begrudge any of it, and wouldn't do anything differently again. But I was glad that I was able to break away and have something different. Something exciting, new. Something that I could explore and dissect alone: Life."

I'd missed out on it for so long and there it was all the time waiting. It could have just grabbed me and shook me." He grabbed the air as if it was himself. Sara, enjoying the story of his life, and feeling less uncomfortable sat up and settled herself against the back of the sofa and brought her knees up to cradle. She felt at home.

"Life was patient, didn't ask me for anything. Just waited, until the one day I would realise it was there." He was blushing slightly, it was evident he was reliving the process with her.

"I found out recently that I was losing my own hearing. I had the operation but it isn't a curative procedure." He looked straight at her, "As scientists we know this." He gazed back into the rug again. "You know what I scared of most? Being back in that world again. I didn't want anyone to feel that burden."

"But _I_ would have. You know that." She was beginning to understand. He flinched slightly, she was so confident with her feelings. So much more than him.

"I know you would have Sara, and that was what I was afraid of. I didn't want you to miss out on a life that you love so much."

That was why I told you that you needed something outside of work. Away from me. I didn't want you to feel dragged into a world that my condition would create. So... I pushed you away; I felt it was the best thing to do." He sighed, he knew at the time he had made a mistake, he felt it even more so.

"But... then I realised that I couldn't push you away."

Because I was scared of losing you."

She looked up, their eyes met. Honesty was what she saw in those pools of blue.


	7. All That's Left Unsaid

This chapter isn't finished yet, but it will be ASAP, just didn't want to leave anyone hanging.

Got any pointers? (I sure could use 'em!) Get in – Cheers guys.

**Chapter 6**

She let the words absorb into her mind, her body. These were not words that she would forget easily, but were words that could change her life.

"Grissom, I don't understand what you're trying to say to me. You say you don't want to lose me, but I'm not going anywhere." She slung her legs back onto the floor. She was sitting in her usual confident pose, hands crossed. Aside from red hued eyes and a few stray tears no-one would know Sara was riding an emotional rollercoaster.

"I'm here. I'm here now. I don't want to be anywhere else." She sighed, Grissom had revealed so much to her tonight, she felt she needed to let herself go a little. This was the man she loved. The man she had wanted for so many years, and now he had laid himself on a platter... for her. She had to say something.

"Do you remember when you found out about my relationship with Hank?" He hung his head, the memories of the pain flooded back. Of course he did.

"Yes." He didn't look up, he knew the pain was evident in his eyes. He felt it. She felt burned by his response.

"I never felt pain like that moment. I saw it, for an instant. That hurt in your eyes. I never want to feel like that again Grissom. I don't want to be a reason for you to feel that much pain again. Gerard saw it too. He clued that bitch DA in on it. I'm so sorry Grissom." The tears began to fall again. She cried, softly, her body twitching as she found it difficult to breathe through the tears.

Grissom moved towards her, crept slowly around the table. He needed to comfort her. He sat softly on the seat beside her, copying her sitting position, he leaned in towards her.

He used his whole body to nudge her slightly, a sign of affection, 'like animals' he heard somewhere in his brain.

She sniffled a giggle, then turned towards him, moving backwards slightly, slung one leg over the other trying to act confident, with tears still smudging into her cheek.

He moved slightly, lifted a hand, cupping her soft skin and used his thumb to wipe away a lone tear. He smiled softly, "Chalk" He replied.

Sensing the moment, the heat of his hands and the warmth of his smile, Sara's body burned for an instant. She leaned slowly forward, nothing but lust in her eyes, she lowered them to his lips, her arms motioned towards his neck. She allowed her arms to slide down his back, crossing, bringing him closer.

He didn't move, but his face smouldered for her.

She stopped, an inch away from him, her breast softly pressed against his chest. His breathing was heavy, deep, hungry.

"Grissom..."

Her eyes were heavy, her lips full, she couldn't say anything.

Everything moved so fast, their lips clashed, almost creating sparks, but their movements were sleek and smooth, his hands found her neck, he wanted nothing more than to devour her.

Their tongues met, tasting each other. Her head was practically on his shoulder, they were so close, they looked like Rodin.

He swept his mouth to her neck, her tears tasted salty but sweet.

Her legs buckled beneath him, his hands left trails of fire beneath them, and she wanted nothing more than to touch his skin.

Her breathing was heavy, musky, seductive.

"Grissom," She managed, panting. She needed to know it was him. There were still things to be said. "Grissom, I..."

**TBC...**


End file.
